


It's not about us

by orphan_account



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light BDSM, Sex Work, dont expect too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 04:42:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Two girls try to understand each other.





	1. Chapter 1

Rachel had the tendency to be cold.

“I said don’t move.”

And I had the tendency to bring the worst out of her.

“Bite me.”

And so, she did.

That was how our relationship worked. It was pure lust. She bit, I licked, she kissed, I nipped. It was just how we did it. There was this violence that came out when Rachel touched. Something primal, she was like an animal who didn’t know next time she would be able to eat. So, she feasted on me, and I let her do it.

The bite marks made their way up my neck, and now she was focusing on my ear. I didn’t mind. I wanted to feel her hot breath against me. It made me feel alive.

Rachel and I complemented each other. We both never got along with people, we never fit within society’s rules and constructs. When we met, we hated each other. But the comfort we found in each other’s arms became what we lived for.

We weren’t dating. It was okay. We were more using each other. I liked girls. She liked me. So, we fucked. I didn’t know why she liked me. I always assumed there was this weird, tiny human part of that pitied me. I couldn’t read her thoughts, but the way she touched me reminded how she touched her dogs.

To her, I was a pet. Something she could train, control, shape into what she wanted. To me, she was a supplier, a warm house and free meals. This relationship couldn’t be described as healthy, but we never acted as if it was in the first place. We lived together. We fucked together. I liked it.

But we didn’t really know each other. She never asked for my name. She never talked to me about what I like and disliked. I knew her as “Bitch” then as “Rachel”, but really, I never felt comfortable calling her that. It wasn’t her.

She stayed on top on me for at least a minute just playing with my ear. I decided to get it pierced. I knew this would turn her on. She dragged her tongue on the piercing, nibbling at the sore spot. She had this thing for injury, a sick fascination with them that just made unable to look away. I liked that.

I knew that Rachel was a virgin until she had met me. It was an accident, but now, our lives were intertwined like a barbed wire and a prisoner. We were together despite being incapable of understanding the other.

I knew she liked it when I moaned. She knew I liked it when she made me moan.

What I learned from our bedtime interactions is that she didn’t enjoy hurting others. She didn’t like hurting me, but she enjoyed pushing me to my limits. My boundaries were clear: no blood or permanent injuries. She toyed with that. I had bruises and hickeys on my body to prove it.

I freed one of my arm from her grip laid it against her hip. She didn’t like that and yet she was smiling.

“What are you doing?”

She was out of breath. My fingers were pressed against her skin. She had many scars, just like me. I enjoyed looking at them. They made me feel good.

“Take me.”

She put her forehead against mine. Her eyes were mischievous. She still had a firm grip on my right hand, but her left was now on my face.

“Beg for it.”

It was stuff she had learned from porn, I presumed. She said things that nobody really said when they had sex. She just didn’t know better. She did know how to turn me on, however. She rubbed herself against me. She was preparing herself.

“You know I’m not good at that.”

She held my mouth open. I pulled my tongue. She smiled then kissed me. It was raw. She knew I loved kissing with the tongue, and slowly but surely she grew to like it too. I had tamed her while she taming me.

She let go of my hand. I took the occasion to slip my hands under her shirt. She always had a shirt on when we had sex. She always got naked first, but never removed whatever shirt she had on. Today, it was a black sweater.

She broke away from our kiss. Rachel looked at me, panting in my face.

“Can I touch you?” I smiled. Rachel was now sitting on me. Her knees were to my sides, squeezing me softly. I had done something wrong. My hands stayed on her hips. “Sorry.”

I made things awkward. Rachel didn’t like to be touched. She liked giving, but avoided receiving any touch or love from me. My kisses on her lips, face, and neck were the only thing she accepted as an intimate touch. The rest was always shunned upon. I had slipped and done something wrong.

“It’s okay.” She had one hand on my right breast and the other holding my chin. “What’s your name?”

I just answered.

“Hazel.”

I realized she was dripping wet and that she was dripping on my exposed belly. She had a red flush on her face that I assumed was the same on mine. We had known each other for three weeks, lived together for about three days, and it was only now she opened up like that. I saw something I didn’t think I would see from her.

“Hazel, are you sure you want me?”

Tragically for Rachel, I already wanted her. I figured what she meant, and more importantly, how she felt. She was ashamed of something. I sensed it. I couldn’t do what I usually do like asking what was wrong. This wasn’t our relationship and yet I found myself with her on top of me thinking about how I could help her.

There was something wrong with Rachel that was deeper that her attitude. She was damaged. One way or the other, she got messed up. It’s not like she couldn’t be fix, but she didn’t want to. I related to that. I understood what she felt. We were both quiet women who had problems with authority and didn’t like being told what to do. But we differed in the way we processed it.

“What do you mean?” I moved my hand over hers. I understood why she put her hand there: she could feel my heartbeat. “Like... do I find you hot?”

“No, I-” She stopped and sighed. “I’m not good at this.”

“It’s okay.” I squeezed her hand. “Me neither.”

“I don’t want to pay you anymore for this.”

Oh. That type of yearning. My face was now blank. I didn’t really know what to make of it. Perhaps I should cry, maybe I should run away. I just wanted to vanish. This conversation was going somewhere I didn’t want.

“You don’t,” I turned my head toward my things. It was a bag with clothes, my phone and charger, and a couple of books. “You let me live here for free.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

I bit my lip.

“Then what? What do you want?”

“I want you.”

“Then do me? What’s stopping you?”

“You are.” Those words hurt but not in a way I had expected. Suddenly, the weight of Rachel became real. She was a real person with emotions and feelings. She wasn’t that before this. She was a creature who had lust and money. Now, she was someone else and I had to deal with that.

“Shit.” It wasn’t hard to understand that she had caught feelings for me. I wonder if I did for a brief moment. She touched me softly. There was love in her hands. She dragged her thumb across my breast, touching my nipple. She stared idly at my body. Her eyes lingered on the hickeys, the bruises, the bite marks, everything she had left on me.

“What are we Hazel?”

“A prostitute and her John.” I answered, coldly. I was playing with fire. I was pushing her away.

“Are you sure we’re just that?”

Our relationship was a transaction. Or at least, it was one when it begun. She didn’t mean to bring me home that night. She thought I was a friend of a friend who needed a place for the night. I told her what I was, she paid me, and we fucked. 

It was true that we had something. I just didn’t know what. It was true that I stopped meeting other clients. It was true that I had blocked people on my phone after meeting her. But were we more than just a conventional sexual transaction. Perhaps the word for it was friends with benefit at this point, but it was obvious Rachel wanted more. She just didn’t know how to say it.

It was in this moment I was glad I was able to sense danger. If I were your local normal girl jaded because of my life experience, I would see Rachel’s eyes sizing me up as a threat. There was still this risk of me getting hurt, but I knew deep down that the pain wouldn’t be physical.

“No.”

She became looser. I managed to get in a seated position. My legs were were still underneath her. I was taller by a couple inches while standing. But right now, we were both vulnerable.

“What do you want from this?” I wrapped my arms around her body. She was still engrossed by me. I laid my head against the space between her head and shoulder. “What do you want from me? From us?”

I knew Rachel didn’t have the answer nor the words to express her desire. I didn’t expect an answer. Instead she laid down while still in our embrace, she had closed her eyes.

“It’s okay. I can wait.” 

She hesitantly kissed my nose. 

“Don’t go, please.”

I rubbed my head against the fabric of her shirt. I squeezed her. She kissed me again. This time, it was on my lips. It was soft. I didn’t mind. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I let one of my arm out of the embrace, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and covered our bodies with it. 

Rachel and I decided to say nothing as we both laid there. There was nothing to say that could make our situation better. We both had our issues we had to work through.

For a moment, the only thing that mattered was her warm breath against my face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tfw ur both tops

It took awhile before Rachel fell asleep. Her calloused hands were touching my bare chest and I had to admit it felt good. I waited for another hour. I counted her eyelashes and the cracks in the cracks in the wall.

I wish I could sleep. 

Technically I could, but I had a good reason to avoid it. My powers became uncontrollable. I had nightmares about everything going around me. I heard everything spiders, nails in the walls, and the movement of people.

Anything that could be a threat to my physical or mental integrity echoed through me, and it created nightmares. So, I didn’t sleep. I usually spent my time walking outside or doing something mindless. Even if I didn’t need to sleep, I still needed to empty my mind. I continued counting things. 

Rachel wasn’t attractive but she was my type. I like girls who looked like boys. It was something I learned to deal with, something I grew to understand and love. She had many pores on her nose and her cheeks. She was kinda hairy. It was as if she was becoming the creatures she was training.

I started to remove myself from her grasp. Her breath quickened. Her eyes opened, still in the middle of a dream. I wondered what was going through her head. What did girls like her dream of? I could ask but she started speaking first.

“You promised.”

I expected her hands to tightened in my waist but instead they went limp.

“I did.” I pulled myself away. “I’m not going anywhere, though.”

I was still naked. She still was wearing her shirt. I was getting cold in the house. The bed was warm, but the air was oppressively cold. I wanted to clean myself, put in warm clothes and talk to Rachel.

“I want to shower.”

Rachel closed her eyes. 

“You want to come with me?”

She reopened them. She tugged at her shirt. Rachel didn’t need to talk for me to understand. I didn’t know what made her feel like this but it tugged at the back of my mind. 

“It’s okay. I won’t look.”

She put her hand over where I was. I undid my bun, letting my black curls fall down to my breasts. I was sitting like a mermaid while Rachel absentently looked at me. I pointed the bathroom and I made my voice clear.

“Don’t take too long.”

She agreed with a soft yes. I left the warmth of the bed and stepped on the cold wooden floor. I grabbed a shirt and a pair of underwear on the way and entered the bathroom. I turned around to see that Rachel was also preparing herself, getting things ready. I stepped inside. 

There two clean towels, and an underestimated amount of unclean one laying around. I had cleaned the bathroom earlier, but Rachel had to take care of a dog. I put my clothes on the sink. I folded it and heard footsteps stopping outside of the door. It was cute. She was waiting for me to enter the shower before getting in.

I turned the knob, moved the curtain and entered the cold stream of water. I turned it around until it felt good. I just stood there for about two minutes until Rachel mustered the courage to enter the room. I wrapped my arms around me. I heard her clothes dropped to the floor. She entered the shower and closed the curtain behind her. She pressed herself against me. She might have been smaller but she was the stronger one between us.

Her nose found my neck and she pressed her mouth against it. She didn’t kiss me. Instead, she said something.

“Did you think about earlier?”

There was nothing else to think about.

“Yeah.”

Other than the soft dripping of the water on our skin and the floor, there were no other sounds than our breathing. I continued.

“You would need to-“ I stopped myself. This wasn’t about her. It was a ‘us’ thing. “We would need to change.”

She moved my hair to land a kiss on my bare neck. 

“How?” She whispered. “Change what?”

I squeezed her arms. I didn’t know if I liked her that way. Yes, I liked having sex with her, and it was reciprocated. But that was it. Our relationship was based on our body, on what we did in bed. When we weren’t having sex, we weren’t talking. We lived a quiet existence without seeing each other. It was as if we were two ghosts who couldn’t see each other but knew of each other’s presences. The only we communicated was through sex. It wasn’t a long term option.

I still didn’t see what she saw within us. I still saw us as a transaction relationship between two lonely women. We fulfilled each other’s needs without giving or taking more. We were both okay with that, why changed? Rachel wasn’t the type of person who could think like that. She was a one track mind woman. People weren’t important, but then why did she want me? Why did I want to test it out? This was lust. Just another agreement. 

“We’d have to speak.” I raised her hand to my mouth. I kissed her thumb. “Open up.”

That would be a start. I knew she didn’t like that. She had stopped kissing me. It was quiet again. I closed my eyes. I sensed nothing. I felt her breath against me. It felt like she was about to bite me. I wanted to apologize but she spoke first.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I laid my head against hers. “If that’s what you want.”

There was another pause. 

“What do you want?”

Good question. I didn’t really know. I simply answered with my gut instinct.

“Try it out.”

She squeezed me harder. I moaned softly. I knew it turned her on because she lowered her hand down to my stomach. My hand instinctively tried to stop her. Our fingers intertwined. I wanted her right now, but it could wait. I wanted to get the talking out of the way.

“I want to look at you while we do it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Our bodies were dripping wet and warm. I was getting dizzy. There was something risky about this that I enjoyed. “You’re okay with this?”

She swallowed hard. 

“You want to see me?”

I simply hummed. She sighed. I put my hand on the knob of the shower. The shower was dirty. I didn’t want to have sex here, but it looked like it was going to happen anyways. I could always back out, but I didn’t want to. I turned my hand and the water slowly stopped dripping. 

She turned me around. Her cheeks were red like rubies. Her hair was sticking to the sides of her face. She looked at me then away. I looked down.

Her chest was scarred. They were deep and hypertrophied. They were all parallel, about an inch each. I put my thumb against one. She flinched. I wondered why she didn’t want to show me. We both showed each other our bodies, our scars, our wounds to each other. There was no shame.

Then, I realized why I was seeing inside her armor. I sensed it when I touched it. There was a glint in her eyes. It was shame. For a brief second, she thought about harming me. I didn’t blame her. I was seeing something nobody saw. It was a proof that Rachel had a weak spot. Something she didn’t want anybody to see.

I didn’t have to ask if they were self-inflicted. I already had all the clues I needed. I removed my hand. I set my hands against her cheeks and planted a kiss. I didn’t have to say anything because she understood. The way our body talked made more sense than any words would do in this situation.

She pushed me against one of the wall. I didn’t resist. It didn’t hurt but I understood she was taking out whatever she had inside of her on me. Her lust and her shame were one. 

I didn’t fight back. I didn’t tease. I let her at it. I wrapped my hands behind the neck and moaned. That was my job. It was what I needed to do to make her happy. It was again another transaction. I pushed her and now she pushed back, equalizing the gap I had created. I was okay with that. It was fair.

Her mouth was ravenous. It seek crevices to lay itself in. She nipped, bit, kissed, tongued everything she could find. From my neck to my clavicles, my skin were covered with love bites and she kept going down.

Her hand was between my legs. She had started to touch me. At first, it was slow. With her middle and ring finger she slowly teased the outside. She made my quiver. Her mouth was on my nipple, her teeth edging and teasing me. I didn’t understanding why she didn’t just fuck me now. I realized she was enjoying seeing me like this. It was a Rachel thing. Seeing someone who had the advantage over her suddenly becoming the underdog.

“My legs-” I wanted to say more but she took my words as a signal to go in. As she fingered me, my legs continued to become weaker. I opened my eyes and looked down. She was looking at me with her sadistic eyes. 

“Rachel, stop. Please.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “I’m going to fall. I can’t do this standing.”

She raised her head back to my face.

“Okay,” she said pointing the sink with her chin.

“It’s cold.”

“You’ll do it anyways.”

“True,” I kissed her, “but hold me.”

“Will do.”

We moved to the spot. I sat down on the ceramic tiles. It was about the height of Rachel’s thighs. She was towering me as I sat there. It didn’t last. She went down on me. 

She raised my legs over her shoulders. She grabbed my hand. She held it as she shoved her mouth into me. Rachel was hungry. I could feel it. She sucked and she licked. She did that to me in the past, but it was never like this. She wanted my body even if she knew nothing about me. 

I raised my free hand to my mouth, trying to cover my moans. For some reasons, I expected someone to barge in. We were alone in this house on the ranch. Nobody was here today so I could be as loud as I wanted. I forcefully lowered my hand while my lower body twitched and ached. I ran my hand through her hair. 

With her own free hand, Rachel clawed my thigh. Her nails dug into my flesh. I whimpered and she went in harder. If I told her to tear me open, she would do it right now. She played with the rules I gave her, scratching me. I would have bruises tomorrow.

Her tongue shoved itself inside of me. I never knew what I was supposed to do by this point. I preferred being on top. It was what I liked. However, it was rare that the men and occasional women I met wanted me to do that. So, I took the passive role. I let things happen, followed the waves. I let them do things to me that I didn’t really like but didn’t really have a choice to change. The sex I gave to people wasn’t about me so when Rachel did that, I didn’t know what to do.

I tensed up and she felt it. She looked up back. I felt her warm breath against my slit. She looked at me and I saw a puzzle in her eyes. She was trying to figure things out on her own. It was cute. I decided to help her.

“You kinda hurt me.” It was a lie, and one that didn’t make sense because of our activities so I continued. “Just… mhm.”

She bit her lip.

“I- uh.” I adjusted myself. My back touched the cold mirror. I felt the condensation against my skin. The shirt I was planning to wear was now wet. “Don’t worry about it.”

I didn’t expect much from her. It was sad, but it was true. I didn’t expect to read the room, to understand my unspoken feelings. I just sat there waiting for her to continue. She didn’t looked at me instead. I saw something behind her eyes. She was trying to figure out what was going on. 

It felt awkward. I closed my eyes. I just wanted her to get it over it. I felt her breath on me then it didn’t come back. She had moved back. I let my legs fall. She put her hands on my knees and leaned on me. I opened my eyes and found her staring at me.

“What do you want?” It was a clear question.

I was the one not speaking now. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at her. She didn’t back down, holding down to her point. She was being cold again, but she was trying. I don’t know if she would be successful, but she was trying. And it was better than nothing. Better than anyone else. Better than what I expected. 

So I gave her my answer.

“To kiss me.”

She leaned on me, pushing me against the mirror again. It was rough, but her kiss wasn’t. She kissed me again, putting her tongue inside of my mouth. She tasted good. I tasted good. She was warm. I needed that. I needed to feel her. Feel something other than this emptiness within me. She was trying to fill it with her tongue, trying to make me feel something else. 

She broke away briefly. There was a stand of spit. I was panting. That was what I needed.

“Thank you.”


End file.
